


Apologia

by Spadesinspades



Series: Mixy Ficlets [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Italy, M/M, Romance, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 04:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spadesinspades/pseuds/Spadesinspades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic Request:  A ficlet in the Johnlock fandom around a city: Venice. You can pick the time period. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apologia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MyLittleCornerOfSherlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLittleCornerOfSherlock/gifts).



It was the most lavish apology that John Watson had ever been bestowed.  Two years after the fall, Sherlock had appeared at his doorstep with a ginger mop of hair and a suitcase.  Five minutes later he had a black eye and his old bedroom back.  

Two days after that John had Sherlock’s virginity and a promise that they’d never be apart.  Now a week later, Sherlock had promised him a vacation-sized apology for all the emotional turmoil.  Sherlock was clearly in a giving mood and John couldn’t bring himself to turn it all down.  It was clearly the gentlemanly thing to do to simply accept the tickets to Italy without question.

Sherlock had insisted that Myrcoft was paying for the whole affair; flights, accommodations, spending money.   _For service to_   _Queen and Country_ , Sherlock had said.  Sitting in first class, sipping champagne, John could picture himself eagerly bending knee for the Queen any time they may need Sherlock again.  He was quite practised on his knees these days, after all.

Upon landing, they were swept off to the Palace Bonvecchiati, a hotel in the historical heart of Venice.  Their suite was all chocolate-dipped linens and cherry wood floors.  Sparkling wine bubble baths and gossamer light.  John felt like he had died and gone to heaven.  Only Sherlock’s hand in his kept him anchored to the ground.

One late morning, Sherlock and John lay tangled in one another, sweat drying on cooling skin.  John was dozing, in and out of consciousness, and Sherlock was drawing lazy circles on his skin with one long, slender finger.

Sherlock pressed his lips against John’s ear and whispered instructions.  He was to get dressed as nicely as possible and was to meet Sherlock in the lobby in an hour.  Sherlock apparently had a surprise for him.  John mumbled assent and stumbled out of bed for the shower.  Sherlock waited until he could hear the water running before he left the suite.

###

When John gets down to the lobby an hour later, he is rendered breathless by what awaits him.  Sherlock stands before the gondola entrance to the hotel in a dark grey bespoke suit cut so expertly that John swears he can see his hip bones pressed against the fabric.  It takes him a few moments before he remembers how to breathe again.  Sherlock offers his hand and before John knows it they are seated in a boat, gliding smoothly through the waterways.

Sherlock won’t say where they are headed, but John doesn’t care.  He is enraptured by the city and the gondola and the fruit that Sherlock is feeding him by hand.  They exchange caresses and secrets.  John makes a declaration of love and Sherlock kisses him more deeply than he ever thought possible.  And, after some time has passed, they arrive at their destination.

The Piazza San Marco is breathtaking in the early evening light.  At the eastern end, St. Mark’s Basilica glitters in the sunset.  Tourists litter the square, cameras flashing and laughter bouncing between the buildings on either side.  Sherlock pulls John into the middle of the Piazza and Italian spills from his lips.

_Mi vuoi sposare?_  


John smiles and shakes his head.  It sounds beautiful coming from Sherlock’s mouth, wrapped in his satin timbre, but he can’t understand the words.

Then, quite impossibly, Sherlock is on his knee in Venice, asking:

"Will you marry me?"

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 'mylittlecornerofsherlock' - February 2013


End file.
